The Final Flight by James Blatch (fastest ebook reader .TXT) 📕
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- Author: James Blatch
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He stopped the recorder, labelled the official reels and set it going once more with an unofficial tape.
Millie daydreamed about the moment he could march into the station commander’s office with proof, in black-and-white, that Guiding Light was unfit.
He tightened his straps and locked his chair in place as they joined the West Porton circuit. They were back on time, ready for the Vulcan to be fuelled and prepared for a second trial.
Time was no longer on his side.
The nose gear unfolded with loud clanks, just a few feet below his seat.
The main gear met the runway with a squeal and they taxied in.
Two tasks ahead. Get the tapes to Belkin and decipher that second field.
Inside TFU, Steve Bright was nowhere to be seen.
Millie rid himself of his flying clothes and equipment, and stowed the tapes.
At his desk, he ate the sandwich Georgina had made for him and got on with his paperwork.
At 2.30PM, he finally heard Steve Bright across the room, but he was already with Rob and the others, planning the afternoon trip.
Two hours ticked by before they returned, from Scotland. It would have been a perfect opportunity for him to gather more data.
He watched Bright as the crew arrived back into the planning room, hair matted with sweat. The group stayed together as they changed and headed out to the mess bar.
Millie packed his bag, checking it for secret project papers before following them.
The mess was busy, and his eyes stung from the amount of smoke in the air. He made his way to fire exit and pushed it open, before searching the growing crowd of officers.
Steve Bright was there, in the centre of the room, laughing and talking with a small group.
Millie ordered a drink and joined them.
He sipped his beer and bided his time.
Just before 7PM, the group broke up and Millie followed Bright out into the lobby. Checking no-one was too close by, he called out.
“Steve, can I have a quick word?”
The nav stopped by a portrait of the Duke of Edinburgh in full RAF flying clothing, standing in front of an Avro Anson.
“What is it, Millie?”
“What did you say when you stood over me earlier?”
Bright looked perplexed.
“When?”
“In the met brief.”
Bright shook his head. “No, sorry, can’t remember.”
Millie looked around again before retrieving the piece of paper from his pocket.
“Oh, that. Yes, I just wondered if that’s where we were going today, but clearly not.”
“I don’t understand. What did you mean?”
Bright looked at the paper again. He pushed Millie’s hand further away as if to try and focus on it.
“Coordinates, aren’t they? Lat and long.”
Millie looked back at the digits.
15105550114922
15105550114810
“Really? I don’t recognise them.”
Bright shrugged. “Well, maybe not. At least I’m not sure what the ‘1’ at the beginning is. But ‘51 05 55’… What’s that?” He tilted his head up toward the ceiling. “Somewhere north of here? Midlands? And… He studied the paper again. “‘1 49 22’. That’s west. Maybe Cheltenham? Trust me, Millie, I’m a navigator and I know latitude and longitude when I see it.”
Millie stared at the figures.
“I see. But like you say, there are too many digits.”
“It’s your note, Millie. Can’t you ask whoever gave it to you?”
He wasn’t sure what to say, and so said nothing. Bright smiled and took the sheet from his hand, scrutinising it.
“Look, there’s a ‘1’ at the start and a ‘1’ in the middle before the long. No idea what that means, sorry chap.”
He handed the paper back to Millie, leaving him alone, staring at the numbers.
More people arrived from the bar and he pocketed the sheet before heading to his car.
As he drove up to the central road that ran through the station, another car pulled alongside him.
Steve Bright motioned for Millie to wind his window down. He leant across and wound down his own passenger side window.
“Probably the hemisphere!” he shouted.
“What?”
“The ‘1’s on your sheet. Probably represents north, south, east or west. Maybe ‘0’ would be south and the opposite east or west?”
“Right.”
Bright laughed. “Normally there would be letters to show the hemisphere. North, south, east, west. But maybe your example uses numerical labels. Where did it come from, anyway?”
There was a beep behind them as someone else pulled out of the mess car park.
“Never mind,” Bright finished and wound up his window before pulling ahead.
By the time Millie arrived home, even Georgina seemed to notice his raised mood.
“Good day at the office, dear?”
“Something like that. Don’t look so surprised. They do still happen, occasionally.”
He took her hand and pulled her close.
She laughed. “Millie, whatever’s got into you?”
He kissed her and tilted his head. “Shall we go down to the Railway Hotel for dinner tonight?”
This time she raised both eyebrows. “Well, I had a pie out, but it’ll keep.”
“Excellent. Saves on washing up.”
“Are you going to let me know what we’re celebrating?”
“As you note, my dear, just a good day at the office.”
10
Thursday 16th June
Each time he approached the main gate, Millie studied the security officers as they busied themselves with the car in front. The routine involved a cursory look into the boot, but occasionally he saw a man lean in and give a more thorough search.
The same went for the interior of the vehicle itself.
He simply couldn’t risk transferring the tapes through the checks. There had to be another way.
At TFU, he took his seat at the meeting to help tighten security even further.
“We need to be certain our system is watertight,” Kilton began. “No papers going astray, everything accounted for. The cabinets, for instance. How secure are they?”
“They’ve got padlocks,” Speedy Johnson offered.
“They look weak. Beef them up.”
Speedy added a line to his to-do list, and Millie made a mental note not to answer questions in case he got lumbered with an impossible task.
But Kilton looked directly at him. “And what about the lockers?”
“What about them?”
“Are they secure, Millie? What do people keep in them? We need to
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